C:\Users\John\Downloads\S\S. M. Stirling - Armor Propre.pdb

PDB Name:

S. M. Stirling - Armor Propre

Creator ID:

REAd

PDB Type:

TEXt

Version:

0

Unique ID Seed:

0

Creation Date:

02/01/2008

Modification Date:

02/01/2008

Last Backup Date:

01/01/1970

Modification Number:

0

Armor Propre
Jan Stirling & S. M. Stirling
« ^ »

Tenon bit her lower lip and studied her image in the steel mirror. Sighing,
she turned sideways to examine her profile.
"That's gorgeous," her companion, Brunea, growled enviously.
"I know," Teri groaned. She turned, tugged at the waist, "It's sooo
beautiful."
"It was made for you madam, and the price…"
Both women glared menacingly at the brawny clerk. "If you need me, just call,"
he excused himself hastily. "I'm Surelle."
"I can't wear this!" Terion exclaimed, tossing her head impatiently. "It's too
expensive and too provocative. I'd be making a target of myself." Her eyes
filled with regret. "It's magnificent." Longingly, she ran her hands down the
sleek sides, "But it's just not me."
"Oooh yes it is." Brunea said firmly. "Sureties right, much as I hate to admit
it. This might've been made to your measure. Besides, it'll be good for your
career."
Teri shrugged, then grinned slowly. Her career had endured a disastrous slump
after she'd slain a wizard she was supposed to be guarding. Now she'd finally
made lieutenant and was looking for something special to mark the occasion.
"Y'know what's making this so hard?" she asked. "I've always dreamed of owning
something like this." Teri traced the gold filigree at the neck with a
reverent finger. "Ooohhh, I
want it!" She laughed.
"Ask your man's opinion," Brunea suggested, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.
"Bet he agrees you should have it."
Terion raised her brows over the phrase "your man," knowing that Feric would
object to it.
But a warm inward glow told her that she approved. She glanced in the mirror
at the advancing reflection of her companion-pet wizards-lover, friend. Mine,
she thought and smiled.
Feric came towards them, his nose leading the rest of his face like the prow
of a ship, dark, unruly hair bobbing with his ungainly walk, fine brown eyes
dreaming. He carried in his wiry arms their week's allotment of supplies; so
loaded that boxes and parcels looked ready to spill in all directions.

"Well!" Brunea demanded in a bark that made Feric jump. "Whaddaya think?"
Terion turned to face him, her blue eyes shining.
"That one over there will do just as well," she said quickly, pointing to a
dully gleaming breastplate. She stood straight so that he could get a better
look at her. "This one costs a hundred gis more." Her face wore a guilty
expression, but her hand stroked yearningly down the glossy armor.
Feric examined her, his lips pursed, eyes narrowed in judgement, highly

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flattered that she'd seek his counsel about something like this. Teri knew
he'd no understanding of armor or its quality. He'd told her as much when she
expressed the need for a new breastplate before facing the Duke's forces in
battle. He appreciated most of all her willingness to let it go, much as she
obviously wanted it, if he agreed they couldn't afford it.
And it was too extravagant, well above the limit they'd set.
Teasing her, he stretched out the moment, examining the beautifully made armor
she wore. It was enamelled black, with lapped tassets falling to the sides,
the whole surface heavily scrolled with exquisite gold tracery.
He liked it. The dramatic color set off her red-gold hair and handsome face.
"Well, my love," he watched her color slightly at the endearment, "if this can
be had for only a hundred gis more I think you should take it."
Terion laughed and clapped battle scarred hands delightedly.
Brunea leaned over, pinched Feric's cheek and growled, "You're a prize, you
are. Even if y'are a wizardling." She winked at Teri. "I'll go hunt up
Surelle."
Feric rubbed his cheek.
"Could you ask her to stop doing that?" he whispered. "I'll be able to whistle
with my mouth closed if she keeps it up!"
Teri just grinned at him.
"Thank you," she said simply, her eyes glowing with affection. Then with
enthusiasm, "Brunea's right, you know. This will help my career. It speaks of
confidence and that'll automatically win a bit more respect."
"Because you look so well?" Feric asked, his eyes admiring.

Terion laughed. "Because it says I can hold my own against anybody.
Mercenaries make up their kit from armor won on the field, so half the young
hot-heads out there will be after me like wasps after honey. The fact I'd dare
to wear something like this says I think I'm good enough to keep it." She
examined her reflection. "Brunea's right, I'm ready to make that statement."
Terion failed to notice Feric's dawning horror.
"You mean," he asked, appalled, "you'll be in more danger because of this?"
"Love," she said and threw a muscular arm around his slim shoulders, "in this
business, more than in any other, timidity doesn't pay. I think that what I
stand to gain more than outweighs the added risk." She smiled at his worried
expression. "Trust me, Feric, I'll profit from this." She looked at herself
once more and frowned. "The rest of my kit won't match," she said unhappily.
"At the very least I should have black trousers."
"You have!" he said.
"But they're so shabby."
"Excuse me, we are talking about going to battle here, aren't we? With the
usual blood, dust, and grass-stains, yes? Not a royal tea-am I correct?" Feric
thrust his chin out pugnaciously and
Teri eyed him in mild surprise.
"If you think we've spent enough," she said mildly, "you've only to say so,
dear. There's no need to be sarcastic."

Feric left Terion as quickly as he could and hurried to their spartan
quarters.
If I were a cheap, tight-fisted jerk she'd be a great deal safer right now, he
thought, miserably, regreting that he lacked such a nature and ignoring the
certainty that Teri wouldn't have anything to do with him if he did. Who could
have guessed that a little gilt on her armor would make a difference?
You could read by the light in their eyes if you even mentioned gold to most
mercenaries, let alone showed it to them. The flash of it on Terion's black
armor would bring them running like bees to a honeypot. Large, brawny,
aggressive, homicidal bees with things that were sharp, or pointed, or
heavy-some of them sharp, pointed and heavy.
She'd never even think of coming to me and asking, "Sweetheart, would you mind

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very much if I joined this suicide mission?" So how could she imagine he'd
knowingly approve of her making a target of herself for the slings and arrows
and knives and spears and swords of

outraged fortune hunters? Well, I won't have it! he thought.
He dragged his two books of magic out from under the bed and unlocked one with
a key he kept around his neck. When he opened the cover the hair on his arms
rose from the outflow of power and he shivered slightly.
Feric had been a mere hedge-wizard until Terion stomped into his life and
gifted him with these books. With the books for guidance, Feric had discovered
that he'd a great deal more power than he'd ever imagined.
His problem was control. Terion had likened Feric's magicking to "using a ten
pound battle-hammer to open a soft-boiled egg." After two or three near
disasters they'd both agreed he needed a tutor and to put the books away until
they found one. Then he'd given his goat to a neighbor and had followed Terion
out of his little village into the wide world.
So he shouldn't be doing this. In fact he felt guilty just looking at the
books.
But I'm only looking for something small, he rationalized. A little protection
spell to offset her attractive armor. What could possibly go wrong with that?
She'd never know. Besides, it was his agreement that had put her in danger. He
was obliged to find a way to protect her.
Anyway, he'd no intention of living without her if he'd any say in the matter.
Gritting his teeth, Feric immersed himself in the book's contents.
"Ah-ha!" he exclaimed some time later. "To Render an Object Apparently
Invisible."
Thyf spell, he read, causeth the eye to flee the object enchanted, deflecting
the gaze as a shield deflectf a blow.
Indeed, if it be well cast, thine enemyf entire bodie shall be turned aside.
"Excellent! Just what I was looking for."
The difficult part would lie in getting Teri to leave her beloved breastplate
with him to be enchanted.

Two days later, well before dawn on the day of battle, unit commanders, Terion
among them for the first time, met for a final briefing with the Prince and
his senior staff.
His Highness's brow was clouded this morning. He stood alone, brooding,
wrapped in a black cloak.

He probably thinks he looks romantic, Terion thought, not without sympathy,
but what he really resembles is a big-footed puppy someone left out in the
rain. Which was, perhaps, to be expected from a boy of seventeen forced to
face his own uncle in battle. Occasionally he looked sulky, as the mercenary
officers around him yawned, stretched, drank hot things out of mugs or picked
at their teeth with daggerpoints. It was hard to look romantic next to someone
finishing a piece of toast and brushing crumbs off their gorget.
The Duke had protested the Princes right to the throne and had given his young
nephew a scant month to surrender his birthright. Then he'd marched
immediately upon the royal city of
Feval to wrest that concession from the Prince by force. Help was on its way
from all quarters, but for now the Duke's army outnumbered them considerably.
A great map hung from the wall slightly to the left of the sulking Prince; the
Lady General
Ples rose from her place and went to it. With a pointer she began to outline
the enemy's positions and their own.
As she described the intended course of the battle to come, Terion leaned
towards Brunea.
"Look at that hill anchoring the end of the Prince's line," she whispered.

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"They've got nothing on it but a few troops! If the Duke gets an inkling of
that he'll be over that hill and through our flank like lightning."
"Lady have pity on the poor sod who gets that position," Brunea muttered back.
"They're dead, whoever they are."
"Terion of Captain Tesser's company, you'll be here," the General's pointer
slapped the hill they'd just been discussing. "I don't need to tell you," Ples
said grimly, catching Terion's eye, "how important this position is. At all
costs, we are relying on you to hold this hill."
Terion could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise. She knew the eyes of
her comrades were on her, so she refused to swallow the lump in her throat
until the General had caught their attention again. Then it felt like she was
trying to swallow a live cat.
At the conclusion of the briefing the commanders began to file out to muster
their troops in the city square. Suddenly, the General was at Terion's side,
placing a hand on her arm to stop her. Ples nodded to Brunea, urging her to
leave them alone.
"I wanted to emphasize once again the importance of your position," the
General said softly.
"I doubt you'll see much action way down at the end of the line, but it's
still crucial. Thought I'd give you something easy for your first command."
Ples smiled at her and squeezed Terion's arm. "Good luck. Carry on," she said
and saluted.
Ten returned the salute smartly and walked away. Glancing over her shoulder,
she saw Ples cover a smile with her gloved hand. No, she was more than
smiling, she was laughing.

What does the Captain think of this easy command? Ten wondered. She glanced
around and saw her commander in deep and apparently angry conversation with
some of the regular army captains.
Suspicion and dismay roiled within her. Did the General think she was stupid?
Well, obviously, or she wouldn't have all but suggested that I pack a picnic
lunch and something to read.
But her inexperience at command didn't alter the fact that she was going to be
seriously undermanned in a vulnerable position. And the General seemed to find
it amusing. Teri frowned.
If she were still a sergeant she would've told her commander that the
situation stank and just why she thought so. But as a commander herself…
She didn't want to look hysterical, nor like she was afraid of a hard post. I
wish the Prince would stop brooding and start leading, she thought. She
watched General Ples step between
Captain Tesser and the Prince. Ples nodded wisely while the Captain
expostulated. Not surprising, Teri thought reassured by her commander's
obvious anger. This plan looks more like a model for How to Lose a Major
Battle in One Easy Step. Frowning, she went to meet her troops.

In the city's main square the pre-dawn silence was shattered by the clatter of
horse's hoofs on cobblestones, the rattle of armor and the barking of dogs and
frustrated sergeants trying to get sleepy troopers properly lined up. The
scent of animal dung and of sweat, horse and human, added sharpness to the
crystalline chill of the morning air.
"Where's Feric?" Brunea asked, tying off her silver shot braid with a thong.
"He's at home," Terion said, her voice clipped, her face pale. "Asleep."
Brunea raised her brows at that.
The whole city was here to cheer the Prince's forces off to battle. And this
was Terion's first command. She'd have sworn the scrawny little newt would
understand how important this was to Teri. Even if he didn't, this was war, he
might not see her again, or not in one piece anyway.
She shrugged her muscled shoulders. Men were hard to figure. Wizards,
downright impossible.

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Terion stood on the crest of the hill and stared out over the enemy lines. Her
heart sank. The
Duke's men were lined up awfully deep here and were backed by a rank of
cavalry.
Suddenly I feel like the subject of a tragic ballad, she thought. One of those
set to an unfortunately bouncy tune. They slew her then with sword and spear,
oh, tra la la and hack-away, aye!
The air was laden with the scent of crushed grass, horses and massed humanity.
The tension was almost palpable, as though you could tear chunks of it out of
the air.
She looked down at the enemy and pictured them charging the hill's gentle
slope. They'll barely work up a sweat running up here, she thought.
The Duke's men were laid out in a gentle arc that half surrounded her
position. And they had archers. But I have no cover. She flinched inwardly.
Ten's eyes flicked left and right as she tried to second guess the enemy
commander. She gave that up with a disgusted sound. Just to see them is to
know their plan. They're going to walk up here and use our noses to plow up
the grass.
Her sergeant came and stood just behind her, his hairy face calm, hazel eyes
worried.
It's as if they knew this was our weakest spot, she mused, then clicked her
tongue impatiently. Irrelevant at this point, she thought.
Terion wondered if the Prince was aware of this unexpectedly heavy
concentration of enemy troops. He might not have noticed how things stood way
down here at the end of the line. He certainly seemed to be too busy brooding
to be paying attention at the briefing.
So the kid's not a genius. At least he's good hearted. His uncle's head is
nothing more than a knot of muscle at the top of his spine and he's as vicious
as a drunken wolverine.
And there was something to be said about fighting on the side of the light.
But at the moment, staring at the thick shouldered mass of her enemies, she
couldn't remember what.
"Sergeant," she said, "send my respects to his Highness. Tell him the Duke has
enough men here to push us back at the first go 'round. Tell him they have
archers and they're backed by cavalry."
"Yessir," the sergeant said. He turned and called out a name, spoke briefly
and sent a long-legged girl running for the center of the line.
A herald bearing a silken banner with the Duke's device came forth from the
enemy lines

and approached the Prince's position. He read a long and, no doubt, eloquent
speech that Tenon couldn't hear, but which almost certainly demanded the
Prince's surrender.
She heard his Highness's ringing response of "Never!" from her hilltop,
though. And all of the Prince's troops called out "Never!" after him in a roar
that rolled after the retreating herald like thunder.
All the feeling in her body seemed to coalesce in her stomach, making her
breath come short. Now, in a moment, the battle would begin. She lowered her
visor and breathed a prayer to the Lady.
No word had come from the Prince, not even her messenger had returned. She
decided to send another. Things would be no worse here for the loss of two
soldiers, and it might just help. She reminded herself that her status as a
commander entitled her to the Prince's attention.
She'd known at this morning's briefing that she was in trouble. The General's
insistence that she and her troops "stand" had been her first inkling.
Experience had taught her that rhetoric like that meant "so long, sucker."
Terion needed archers here and she had pikemen, and not nearly enough of them.

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She rubbed her gauntleted hands together and tried to think of some new way to
deploy her troops that would lessen the enemy's advantage in numbers.
Fine, cold sweat misted over her body, and a shiver ratcheted up her spine,
making her gasp. Someone stepping on your grave her mother had said, or maybe
that was Feric.
Thinking of Feric got her dander up, which was just what she needed right now.
She welcomed the spurt of anger. He'd been asleep when she'd gotten home last
night and she hadn't been able to wake him this morning.
Who does he think he is? she demanded of herself. How dare he ignore me at a
time like this!
She wondered, and worried, on a deeper level about just what he'd been doing
to make him so tired. Jealousy popped its head up briefly, wondered what it
was doing here and vanished without really making an impression. Nah. Whatever
he's up to it doesn't involve another woman.
The enemy troops began to march, massed spear points glittering in the sun
like the surface of a wind ruffled pond. There was a tremendous clanking of
armor and the sound of a ringing battle hymn as they moved inexorably forward,
picking up speed as they came.
She watched the archers take stance and draw their bows.

"We're going to charge," Terion suddenly said to her second. "On my signal."
"What?" he roared.
"If we stand," she said, "they'll shoot us to shit and then ride right through
the gaps. If we charge it might break their line in confusion. Our third
option of course, is to simply desert. But the archers will still skewer us
and whoever wins here, the Captain will hunt us down and kill us for
cowardice. So I'd say charging is really our only course. If that's all right
with you, sergeant."
"Yessir," he said, eyes round.
Tenon waited until the advancing troops were halfway up the gentle slope of
the hill before she gave the signal and charged screaming down upon them at
the front of her pikemen.
She waved her sword over her head and tried to keep her balance as she ran on
the slippery grass. Now she was committed to action she needed to neither feel
nor think beyond the killing of the foe.
The Duke's men stumbled to a confused halt and started to brace for the impact
of Terion's troops.
But as the black-clad virago leading them came closer, they saw in horror that
she had no body. Legs pumped furiously as she rushed towards them, her
unadorned helmet glinted in the morning sun and gauntleted hands brandished
sword and dagger, but there was no body.
The more they stared, the greater the compulsion they felt to look away.
Terrified, they felt their bodies forced to follow their eyes' example. Then,
as one, they spun 'round and fled shrieking.
The cavalry horses, already alarmed by the rout, suddenly rolled their eyes in
terror as
Terion came near. They took the bit between their teeth and fled the field
squealing, their riders needlessly, but frantically, trying to whip greater
speed from them.
Terion stopped flat-footed and lifted her visor as the last of the enemy
turned tail. She and the sergeant eyed each other, then stared, open-mouthed,
after the retreating forces.
"But I bathed just last Lugsday," the sergeant muttered.
Then-all in a moment-everything was clear to her. Terion stood torn between a
scream of rage and a sigh of resignation. She whirled her sword through a
complicated arc, then furiously paced back and forth, wondering what to do.
She turned to her sergeant.

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"Get the troops back into position and hold this hill. I'll be back.
Probably."
Then she charged towards the Duke's lines where they'd already engaged with
the Prince's.
Wherever she went chaos reigned, the heat of battle cooled in cowardly rout,
and the
Prince's men poured in joyous pursuit of the enemy. In two hours the battle
was over, the Duke defeated and kneeling in humiliation before the Prince.

"FERIC!"
Startled from a sound sleep he sat up with a gasp. At the horrific sight of a
bodiless warrior charging towards him he scrambled backward. Trying to get out
of bed he tangled himself in the bedclothes, falling to the floor with a
crash.
"Ow," he groaned.
Terion tore off her helmet and threw it on the bed.
"How dare you?" she bellowed. "What were you thinking of? Are you trying to
get me hanged?"
All she could see of him from where she stood was the top of his curly head
and his terrified eyes.
"Well?" she screamed.
Fighting down his fear, Feric stammered, "P-p-please c-c-calm d-down. Or, or
I-I'll have to r-r-run away."
She turned her back with a snarl and stomped over to the window. Taking a few
deep breaths of fresh air, Terion deliberately squashed her anger. Then,
desperately calm, she turned to confront him.
"What did you do to me?" she asked quietly.
"Nothing," he said.
Her eyes blazed and he flinched.
Terion calmed herself once more with a heroic effort and said, calmly, "I'm
not stupid, you know. You did something!"

"Yes," he admitted, with a sheepish smile, his eyes frantic. "But not to you
directly. I, uh, I
enchanted your new armor."
"Oh! We-el." She threw up her hands as though all she'd needed was an
explanation. "Of course! That's just fine. Yes, lovely. And do you happen to
know the penalty for using magical swords or armor in battle?" she asked
sweetly.
"No," he said in a tiny voice.
"Death!" she hissed. She glared at him and then turned her back. "If you had
left well enough alone I'd still be dead, but at least I'd have my
self-respect."
That wouldn't matter if you were dead, he thought, but, wisely, did not say.
"No one needs to know," he said. "I can remove the enchantment."
She threw him a look. "Well, that's not exactly honorable either. Now is it?"
Feric stood up and walked over to face her.
"Terion," he said firmly, taking her hands in his. She made to pull them away
but he held them with surprising strength. "I love you. And I don't want you
to die. Not for money, not so someone can steal your armor, not for honor.
I've waited for you too long, I've had you for too little time and I need you
too much to watch you put your life at risk and do nothing about it."
"I'm a soldier," she said defensively. But she was cooling down, fighting a
smile in fact.
"Risking my life is what I do."
Feric's lips thinned to a grim line and he nodded sullenly.
Terion yanked him into a sudden embrace and he made an "Unh!" sound as she
pressed him to her unyielding armor. Putting her hands on his shoulders she
gently pushed him to arm's length.

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"Now," she said. "What did you do?"
"I found a spell that was designed to give objects the effect of being
invisible. The idea is that your eyes just slide away from an object, it can
still be seen, but you can't look at it, so it has the effect of being
invisible. D'you see?"
She nodded.
"I adjusted it so that you and those you're friendly to could see your
breastplate, but your

enemies couldn't," he finished proudly.
"Feric," she said, "the enemy ran away from me. All of them. This was a little
more than not being able to see me, I was an object of terror. Wherever I
went, they fled in panic."
"Oh." His face flushed puce with embarrassment. "I suppose… I must have put…
too much emphasis into the spell. Like last time," he mumbled.
"Like when you meant to create a puff of smoke and you made your cottage
explode?"
He sighed, "Yes. Too much emphasis."
"We've got to get you a teacher," she said. "You're dangerous."

Some hours later Terion found herself facing the Lady General. She stood to
attention and fixed her gaze on a spot just over Ples's head. Still, she was
quite aware of the dagger-like stare being directed at her.
"I find myself in a most peculiar situation with you, Lieutenant." Ples
pronounced the rank with utter scorn. "On the one hand you're a hero, having
won the battle virtually single-handed.
On the other, you obviously broke the law to do it. You see my position." She
held her hands palms up as though weighing something in each. "The Prince
wants to see you rewarded, the law demands your death. Reward, death, reward,"
she sighed. "And then I saw the solution. I
give you your life, but you must leave the city tonight. Also, you must leave
that breastplate behind." Ples smiled slyly and rubbed her palms together.
"I'm assuming that therein lies the enchantment. You've always been known as a
good soldier, but never as a terrifying one. I
mean, people have never wet their drawers at the sight of you before. Now have
they?
Hmmm?" Her affable smile turned into a smoldering glare. "So take it off and
get out."
Terion blinked. Her armor? One hand went protectively to her chest. This was
unexpected, but she supposed it shouldn't be.
"What of my pay?" Teri asked.
"Your pay is your life."
Terion began to remove her breastplate.
"It was very expensive," she said regretfully.
"I'm sure it was. Let that be a lesson to you."

"I didn't know it was enchanted," Terion muttered, lifting the armor over her
head. "It was a reputable shop."
"A likely story," Ples said in disgust, "with your lover being a wizard. If I
cared to spend the gelt, we'd hire a full-fleged mage to sniff out the
enchanter." She gazed steadily at Terion. "I
think we both know where the trail would lead." Ples pursed her lips and
looked down at a report for a moment. "I doubt you'd want to," she said,
raising her eyes again, "but if I hear of you boasting of this escapade I'll
have you hunted down and dragged back here to be hanged. Is that understood?"
"Yes." Teri laid the armor on her desk and stroked the glossy surface,
reluctant to part with it.
"Go!" the General snarled.

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Terion turned without saluting and walked quickly away. This was bad. The
breastplate had taken most of their savings, making the loss of her pay a
serious handicap. She barked a sour little laugh. I can't even sell my dress
armor, since the General has it.
Terion turned to spit in the direction of the Lady General's tent and to her
surprise saw Ples rush out, dragging two, obviously heavy, saddle bags. And
the General was wearing Terion's armor!
Flinging the bags over the back of a very flash horse, Ples mounted. Then,
with a laden pack horse in tow, she galloped off to be swallowed in the
darkness.
Teri closed her mouth slowly as, for the first time, she noticed the absence
of guards around the General's tent. Now why, she asked herself, would such a
trusted member of the Prince's inner circle feel the need to do a midnight
flit?
Without thinking, Teri loosed one of the horses picketed nearby and hoisted
herself onto its bare back. Then she galloped in pursuit of the runaway
general.
As she neared the camps perimeter she slowed, but Ples charged onward into the
darkness.
"Who goes there?" a startled voice demanded.
"Your worst nightmare!" the General bellowed. "Run awaaayyy!"
There was the thuwk! of a crossbow bolt being released, an "Unh!" and the
distinctive sound of an armored body hitting the dirt.

Terion could have sworn that she heard a strangled and rather plaintive, "But…
?" from that fallen form. Slowly, she grinned and then, just as Ples had
before sending her out to die, Terion began to laugh.

Terion and Feric were plodding down the wide and dusty high-road when the
sound of hoofbeats and a familiar voice made them pause and turn.
Brunea pulled up gasping.
"I've been yelling at you forever," she declared.
"What's the matter?" Teri asked warily.
"I've got your pay," Brunea said and tossed it over.
Terion caught the little sack in surprise, pleased by its comforting weight.
"But the General said I wasn't to be paid!"
"She gave no such orders," Brunea said, grinning. "Too busy trying to save her
backside, I
suppose."
"Why?" Feric asked, puzzled. "Did the Duke's army rally and try to rescue
him?"
"Ha! Lady bless you, lad." Brunea leaned over and pinched Feric's cheek.
Briefly he considered trying to turn her into a rabbit. But a mental image of
himself trying to deal with a Brunea-sized rabbit discouraged him.
"The Lady General," Brunea sneered, "tried to slip through the lines last
night. When the watch challenged her-she just charged 'em. Naturally they
killed the fool. Oh! Were those worried lads!"
"I know," Teri said smugly, "I saw."
Brunea raised her brows.
"You didn't tell me," Feric said indignantly. "Why was the Lady General
running away?"
"She was running from the Princes men," Teri said. "I believe she was selling
our battle plans to the Duke."

"And the Duke, like the traitor he is," Brunea paused to spit, "was happy to
name her a spy.
So she was to die anyway. Not so soon a'course," Brunea said regretfully.
"Ples had your armor on, the gretch, so I filched it back for you." She

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slapped a meaty hand against a flattish package tied behind her. "It's got a
hole in it, but I'm thinkin' maybe your wizardling can fix that." She stuck
her tongue in her cheek, then said off-handedly, "So long as he doesn't put
that enchantment back on."
Teri and Feric glanced at each other, then looked at Brunea, their faces
carefully bland.
"Well," Teri said, "I'm just glad to be paid."
"Yes," Feric agreed. "Money, always useful."
"There's work up north," Brunea said. "Mind if I travel with you?"
"You're welcome to join us," Teri said. "But we're looking for a wizard
willing to teach
Feric."
"What wizard is going to take on an apprentice his age?" Brunea demanded
scornfully.
"We'll know when we find one," Terion told her and rode placidly on.

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